


Mancers of Rosen

by LawrenceKinden



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Fantasy, Spanking, mancer, spank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 14:52:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11534520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LawrenceKinden/pseuds/LawrenceKinden
Summary: The Aynafesse Chronicles: Book 1





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue

Sateyld Citeva, closed the door behind her, leaned against it, and closed her eyes. Even here, even in her inner sanctuary, she could feel the trembling of the Castle of Roses: the Hundred-Year Siege entering its one-hundred twenty-second year. She could feel the unceasing blows of catapults and ballistae. She could feel the tramp of boots and shout of soldiers as they defended her walls. She could feel the deaths that came at every heartbeat. They weighed upon her, a knot of all that she would not allow herself, buried deep within and caged there.

Satelyd pushed away from the door and opened her eyes. Here, her sanctuary, the only place she could truly relax, the place where she slept, was the place of her greatest power. Here was her great scrying mirror, where she could see the siege, a black blot spreading from the shining walls of the Castle of Roses. Here was her greatest portal, from where she could deploy every Figure of Aegis she'd ever crafted. It was her portal and her creations that kept the Hundred-Year Siege a siege, and not an invasion, that kept the people of the Castle of Roses—men, women, and children, none of whom could remember a time before the siege—safe. Even when she slept, she was on constant alert for a crisis that might need her personal attention.

The whole world had been overrun by the Troll'orks, the whole world but for the Castle of Roses, and Satelyd Citeva, Patron of Roses, Purity of Light, the Last Portalsmith, was all that stood in their way. To accomplish her task she pressed the adults living in the Castle of Roses into service as soldiers, and created the Figures of Aegis from imagination and magic.

She didn't allow herself much time alone. Once a month or so, she could lose herself, lose her vigilance, for a few hours.

With the siege in a momentary calm, she'd left the defense of the Castle of Roses to the brave soldiers who manned its walls and General Gayleen who commanded them.

She went to the cupboard on the wall where rested her Figures of Aegis not currently defending the Castle of Roses. Though they were magical constructs, without personality she hadn't thought up for them, she didn't like to work them tirelessly. When they weren't needed, they rested here: small, inanimate figurines upon her shelf. There were robots and mages, monsters and half-folk, warriors and skulkers.

She ran her fingers along them and felt them hum with the magical energy she had used to construct them. There was the Draconic Mage with his rune-inscribed, golden horns and his iridescent, purple scales and his impudent, tongue-lolling grin. There was the Clockwork Swordsman with his jaunty, feathered cap, his burnished, copper goatee and his dozens of swords, poniards, and dirks. There was the Kappa Samurai with his crenelated, impenetrable shell, his intricate, old-fashioned armor, his long, honor-infused no-dachi.

But none of them was right for tonight.

There was the Yeti Cryokinetic, a four-armed giant of a beast with bulging muscles under thick, white fur. He could summon ice from the smallest bit of moisture and brawl with the best of them. With his four hands he was capable of much, including holding her down, powerless, and beating her backside with hands like heavy leather paddles. In his enthusiasm and with his girth, he could fuck her breathless, leave her shaking and sweating and content.

The Hooded Starmancer was a tall, lithe, strict woman. She wore flowing robes lined in the blues and reds and purples of the star clusters floating in the night sky over the Castle of Roses. Her skin-hugging body suit was the color of deepest space. She wielded a pair of tessen, iron fans that she used to enhance her stellar magic and reflect that of enemies. She could also use them to great effect on a bare backside.

Though Satelyd appreciated the yeti's blunt thoroughness and the mancer's strict spanking, this time she was looking for something a little different.

Her gaze settled on the Pantherean Tracker, a tall, svelte, black-furred anthropomorphic cat. He was well-muscled but not overly so. He was clad in leather of mottled shadows, the better to catch their enemies unawares. He had about him a variety of weapons: dirks and spikes, tripwires and poisons, darts and shurikin.

She'd never chosen him for this before, but his alluring nature, a nature she'd granted him, pulled at her tonight. Satelyd plucked the cat-man from his place on the shelf and placed him upon the mystical portal at her bedside table. There was a much larger portal in the center of the room near the scrying mirror, both tools of her defense of the Castle of Roses.

But the portal at her bedside was small, personal.

He appeared in a brief warp of space and a shifting of shadows and light. Though he was nothing more than the magical construction of her thoughts and will, a manifestation of her imagination, a figurine of her own crafting brought to life, he moved like flesh and blood. They all did. It was a mark of her power and skill.

Satelyd felt her breath catch at his handsomeness. Certainly, she understood her own preferences and proclivities. He smiled at her, a grin that flashed his canines, and she felt her knees go weak and her loins go tight.

"Well met, mistress. Have you a clandestine mission for me?"

Satelyd nodded. "Oh yes. It involves some very sensitive information. Information that must never leave this room."

His grin widened. "You can trust me, mistress."

Her heart all aflutter, her fingers numb with anticipation, her voice dry with nervousness, she cleared her throat and said, "I've been a very naughty little girl. Very, very naughty. You're not going to spank me, are you?"

The Pantherean Tracker made a deep, throaty sound. "Oh, mistress, I'm afraid I am. I have no choice but to punish you. It's no good trying to resist. The more you resist, the harsher your punishment."

"Oh, no, please." She put both hands upon her bottom, as though her delicate fingers could protect her from his chastisement.

"Mistress, come her right now. If I have to come over there and get you, this spanking is going to be on your bare bottom. Do you understand?"

She backed up a step and shook her head.

"That's it. You asked for it."

She tried to flee, but she was no match for his speed and agility. He leapt at her like pouncing on a mouse. He grasped her about the shoulders.

"You're getting a spanking, mistress, and that's all there is to it."

"No!" She leaned away from, trying to prevent the inevitable by becoming dead weight, but he just lifted her off her feet and slung her over his shoulder. She squealed and kicked and bucked, but all she managed to accomplish was lose her slippers and make herself feel the fool.

He sat upon her bed, her own bed, a large, opulent affair, one of the few extravagances she allowed herself, and plopped her on her feet.

"Oh!" she blinked at him, nonplussed.

"Now, are you going to bend over, or must I pull you over my lap?"

She'd have fled if he hadn't had a hold of her wrist. As it was, she pulled hard against him and slipped and fell to her knees.

He chuckled. "That's the way you want it then." He picked her up with ease and wrestled her over his lap. She beat at him with her fists, but physical confrontation wasn't her strong suit. When he had her in place, her wrists held in one large hand at the small of her back, her legs trapped in his, he pulled at her voluminous skirts. And here he found himself stymied. There skirts bunched and curled and did not simply slid up out of the way.

Despite herself, Satelyd giggled.

The cat-man growled his frustration.

"I thought you said this was going to be a bare-bottomed spanking. Can't you fulfill your threat?"

"You mock me at your own peril, mistress." And he grasped the seat of her skirts in his clawed hand and ripped them.

Satelyd shrieked and froze in fear. She knew the sharpness of those claws, she'd made them herself.

But never once did the point of a claw touch her tender skin, and within a moment her skirts were in shreds and he was stroking her silken panties gently. She took a deep breath, her heart hammering, her skin sheened with nervous sweat.

He spanked her lightly, little pops to her silk-clad backside.

"Do you still doubt me?"

She swallowed hard. "Never."

"Good." He grasped her panties and tore them like tissue paper.

She squeaked.

Satelyd knew the Pantherean Tracker had soft hands. She knew the velvet skin on his hands and feet made no sound when he was on a mission to protect the Castle of Roses. But as he spanked her, as he stuck her bare, pale bottom, his hand was hard as any paddle, cane, or strap that had ever beaten her. He did not beat her with wild abandon; he did not strike her strictly, instead he spanked her firmly but gently, as though she really was a naughty little girl in need of discipline rather than a century-and-a-half old portalsmith of great power.

And she cried.

She hadn't meant to; usually she didn't. Usually she screamed and kicked and sweated, but she didn't cry. Tears were a luxury, a liability. But something about his implacable method choked the tears from her. And as the spanking progressed, as the fire built, the quiet tears built as well, built in to sobs that wracked her chest and clogged her throat. Something deep within her cracked and threatened to shatter. Desperately, she grappled with it, trying to hold it together.

"None of that, mistress," he growled at her, pulling her tight to him and spanking her harder. "You've had this coming for decades. Tonight, you break."

That stunned her.

This was a game, a reprieve, a chance to drop the responsibilities of her station for a time. She hadn't expected to feel the emotions she never allowed herself. But, as though thinking it made it so, that something deep within shattered under the steady, spanking hand of the cat-man.

Time was lost to her. She fell through a whirling, dark chasm of nothing, nowhen and nowhere. The wracking sobs became debilitating, overwhelming, uncontrollable blubbering. The tears and cries consumed her so that all she knew was the guilt and fear and anguish of a war that had raged for over a hundred years, that she stood against as the last bastion, that she would certainly lose one day. She couldn't stop it, she couldn't control it, and, in so realizing, she gave herself to it. This, she knew, would be it. There was nothing left to be done. She had lost. The denizens of the dark had won. She would huddle in her sanctuary until the Troll'orks came for her and then...

~*~

The smooth-furred chest of her spanker rumbled gently against her bare back. He was purring. At some point he'd divested them both of their clothes and she lay curled upon her bed, him wrapped around her, holding her tight, and purring. She'd not felt so safe in decades.

"Feel better, mistress?"

"What?" she rasped, her throat raw.

"I'm asking if your spanking made you feel better. That was the point, wasn't it?"

It hadn't been. The point had been to distract her for a few hours, but she had to admit, she felt better, cleansed, rebuilt.

"How did you do that?"

"A spanking is quite simple, mistress. I could show you again if you like." He hugged her a little tighter.

"No, I mean..." she reached for the knot of despair buried deep within, but it was gone.

"We are all a part of you. You made us from yourself. We've all known for quite some time that you were fit to burst. You take it all on yourself. And, as the last portalsmith, perhaps it is your lot. But you created us to help you. So..."

"I see."

"Do you feel better?"

"I do." But then she sighed. "Still, this siege is but a precursor to the inevitable."

The Pantherean Tracker slapped her thigh, hard.

"Ouch! Hey!" She elbowed him and he grunted.

"What are you going to do about it?"

"I'll pull your tail if you don't watch yourself, mister," she retorted.

He chuckled. "I mean, what are you going to do about the siege?"

She sighed again then quickly covered her thigh with a hand as he tensed to spank.

"There really is nothing left of this world," she said hastily to forestall the spank. "Even if we killed every Troll'ork, the planet is dying. It could not sustain the population of the Castle of Roses."

"So, where do we go?"

"Go? The planet's dying. Where could we go?"

But, of course, that was it. This planet was dying. She shook her head and laughed, a small, delighted sound. "You're brilliant!"

"All my thoughts you gave me, mistress. I am but a part of yourself."

Not bothering to cover herself or clean the tears from her cheeks, Sateld leapt to her feet and gathered every Figure of Aegis to the great portal in the middle of the room. Most of them she sent to the walls to defend against the siege: the Cryokinetic Yeti, the Draconic Mage, the Clockwork Swordsman, the Magnetosphere Master, the Hawkeyed Archer.

The Kappa Samurai she sent to General Gayleen.

"Order her to prepare every soldier and citizen for evacuation. They have three hours."

The turtle-man put his fist to his chest. "Yes, mistress."

Last, she summoned the Hooded Starmancer.

The sorcerous woman juggled her fans absently and grinned at her. "I see you've already been spanked, mistress. Was he not fit to fuck you as well? Have you called me to help?"

Satelyd sputtered, surprised. The Hooded Starmancer was usually strict, not cheeky.

"There's no time for that. We're evacuating."

"Where to, mistress? The planet is overrun."

"This planet is. I imagined for you the power to traverse space with a thought. I've sent you to the moon and back in a blink. Surely you can find us a planet to start over. One with clean oceans and rich earth and calm winds. One without Troll'orks?"

The teasing grin faded, and the Hooded Starmancer's eyes went wide. "I wondered if ever you would require me to utilize that particular power." She looked up as though she could see through the stone of the Castle of Roses to the starry space beyond. "Yes, I think I could do that."

"I should have thought of it before now. I... I'm sorry."

"This war gave you little time to consider the alternatives. You are not to be blamed for their brutality." She smiled again, a gentle smile this time. "When shall I depart?"

"Do it now. You have three hours."

"That could be enough." And she was gone in a star-spangled flash.

At a growl from behind her, Satelyd turned to find the Pantherean Tracker sitting upon her bed, still naked and beautiful.

"And what of me, mistress? Shall I defend the wall while our new home is found?"

Satelyd smiled. "We have three hours, and, like she said, I haven't been fucked yet."

She pounced upon the cat-man, catching him off guard, which she'd not thought possible, and straddled him, taking hold of the length of his sex in both her small hands. His eyes went wide and he groaned. She squeezed and took delight in the gasp it stole from him.

"Three hours," she said.

"Are you sure it'll be enough time?"

"We'll have to make do."


	2. The Black City

The apple was small and wrinkly, but it was what he could afford. Duncan tried not to look at the box of large, shiny, smooth apples. Instead, he fished a pair of pennies from his pocket and handed them to Mr. Cratchet, the thin, balding orchardist on the other side of the counter.

"Humph." Mr. Cratchet was a taciturn sort. He counted the two pennies before nodding once.

"Have a nice day, Mr. Cratchet."

"Humph."

Duncan turned toward the theatre district where he had a small apartment near a small theatre where he served as scribe and accountant.

Then he saw the girl in white.

She stood just outside a narrow alleyway. She was short and slight with large grey-green eyes and long, straight, pale blonde hair. She wore a sleeveless, beltless, knee-length dress of pure white. Her skin was only a few shades darker than her dress, her feet were bare, and she was staring at Mr. Cratchet's apples.

Before he could stop her, the girl in white scurried forward and snatched one of the large, smooth apples. Duncan winced. She was a terrible thief, and Mr. Cratchet noticed. He darted around the counter and snatched her wrist. The apple bounced off the cobble-stone street.

"Thief!"

"Oh! No, I just..." the girl tried to pull away, but Mr. Cratchet's grip was firm.

"Thief! Someone call the guard!"

Duncan felt his chest clench. Prisons in the Black City of Aiphledaliph were infamous. Despite the city's reputation for wealth and opportunity, for those without means it could be rough and dangerous and unfair. Something about the girl's wide, pleading eyes struck him, and before he'd given it thought, he was stepping forward, pulling more pennies from his pocket. His last five.

"Pardon me, Mr. Cratchet. I'll buy the apple."

Mr. Cratchet was mid breath, prepared to shout again, but paused at the sight of five pennies in Duncan's hand. Duncan had never bought more than two pennies worth of apple before. He narrowed his eyes as though expecting a trick.

"This is your girl?"

"Ah, well..." Duncan Kintaro glanced at the girl, then back at Mr. Cratchet. Though he'd only just laid eyes on her, though they hadn't met properly, he nodded. "She is, sir. I, ah, didn't realize she was meeting me here." He shook his hand, making the pennies jingle.

"Humph." Mr. Cratchet snatched the pennies from Duncan's hand. He counted them carefully, then glared at Duncan with a nasty leer. "That apple costs six pennies, boy. You have another penny?"

Duncan knew Mr. Cratchet was lying. But he also knew that if the guard came, they'd believe Mr. Cratchet over him. There was already a crowd gathering, attracted by the cry of 'thief!' and eager for a show. When the rough and dangerous side of Aiphledaliph was happening to someone else, the people were more than willing to watch the show.

Duncan stooped and snatched up the apple, he tossed it to Mr. Cratchet, whose hands were full of pennies on the one and a girl's wrist on the other. As Duncan had hoped he would, the old man released both to catch the apple.

"Run," Duncan whispered.

"Yes," the girl whispered back.

The girl in white grabbed Duncan's wrist and pulled him into the narrow alleyway. The high walls on either side and the pervasive black stone with which Aiphledaliph had been built threw them into shadow. Duncan was blinded, but the girl in white pulled him along and he ran to keep up. Behind him, Mr. Cratchet began to shout and the crowd soon took up the call.

"This way."

The girl jerked him to the left and he banged hard into a stone wall, bruising his shoulder. He stumbled, but she pulled him to his feet and they continued to run. Duncan's heart was pounding, his ears roaring, he tasted copper and knew he'd bit his lip and it was bleeding. The alley smelled of rotting garbage and clogged stormdrains, and though Duncan's eyes had adjusted to the deep shadow, he still didn't know where they were or where they were going.

The girl suddenly stopped, and Duncan slammed into her, knocking them both to the rough cobbles. Looking up, beyond the girl, Duncan saw the mouth of the alley and beyond, a cotire of guards on the lookout. They hadn't seen Duncan and the girl yet, but Duncan froze in fear. He'd never been in trouble like this before, he'd never run from the guards. All he could think of was the horrifying stories of the Aiphledaliph prisons: rotten food, rampant illness, rampaging violence.

"Hey! Look there!"

The girl scrambled to her feet and pulled Duncan up with her. Duncan watched as one of the guards pointed at them, drawing the others' attention. Duncan tried to back away, to hide again in the alley's shadow, but the girl pulled him close, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek into his chest.

She was a head shorter than him, the top of her head fitting neatly against his chin. She was warm and and soft, even through the simple, white dress she wore. He didn't even know her name, but she felt right, like the missing piece of a puzzle.

"Think of somewhere safe," she whispered.

"What?"

But the image of his apartment in the theatre district blinked into his mind, and in the next moment his vision was filled with bright, white light, his ears with a deep roar, and his skin tingled all over.

When he could see again, they stood in the center of his small, one-room apartment. The girl slumped against him and he held her so that she wouldn't fall. She tightened her grip around his waist.

The apartment was big enough for a chair and side table with lamp in one corner, a narrow bed in another corner, a stove and pantry in a third corner, a small wardrobe beside the entrance. It wasn't much, but it was tidy, and clean, and it was his.

The girl groaned, her grip slackend and she would have collapsed had Duncan not had ahold of her. Duncan was a scribe and accountant. He'd never been particularly strong like his father, but the girl was short and slight and he was able to lift her and put her on his narrow bed. As it was the middle of an early summer day, the apartment was already warm, so Duncan opened the window over the bed, allowing a slight breeze to provide a modicum of comfort.

The girl turned on her side and sighed.

Duncan took a moment to think.

He'd run from the guards, a crime in Aiphledaliph, the Black City. But Mr. Cratchet didn't know where he lived, where he worked, or even his name. Besides that, Mr. Cratchet had tried to cheat them out of money, and they didn't even have the apple the girl had tried to steal. Duncan looked down at his left hand where he still gripped the small, wrinkled apple he'd paid for. He took a bite.

Back where he'd grown up, apples had been a major crop and he'd grown sick of them. Since moving to the capitol city, he'd grown fond of them, a reminder of home.

So, really, the only thing he'd done wrong was run, and that wasn't really so bad compared theft. Or so he hoped. Either way, it seemed unlikely the guards would come knocking on his door anytime soon.

Then there was the girl. He didn't know her name, didn't know who she was or why she had tried to steal an apple, didn't know where she came from or who might be looking for her. And he didn't know why she felt... right. She was pretty to be sure, and at his most basic of desires he could admit that he was attracted to her, but that didn't explain why he wanted to keep her with him forever. It was an odd and frightening feeling, like he'd lost his good sense. This was the sort of thing that happened in old stories.

Not to mention the fact that, less than a minute ago, they'd stood in an alleyway several blocks from here, and now, without traveling the intervening space, they were here, in his apartment.

"You're a mancer," he whispered.

The girl did not respond.

Mancers ruled Aiphledaliph, the Black City, the City of Guilds. The Mancer Council made and enforced the laws of Aiphledaliph, and for centuries their rule had meant peace and stability all through the nation of Citeva. But mancers were dangerous without the strict hierarchy of the Mancers' Guild to govern them, so every mancer, whether they could generate a maelstrom with the blink of an eye or barely light a candel with all their concentration, was tattooed on each hand with a mark of their power. That way, they were easily identified as having been indoctrinated in the ways of the Mancer Guild.

The girl in white had no tattoos.

At a tap at his door, Duncan jumped, his heart racing. His first thought was that the guard had found him. But the tap had been polite. If the guard had come for him, they'd have knocked the door down.

Duncan looked at the girl. She shifted and the hem of her dress slid up her thigh, revealing the barest edge of her white panties. His heart began to race for an entirely different reason.

The tap came again, and Duncan went to the door opening it only halfway, keeping the girl hidden.

Tommy, a runner for Mr. Gildenstern, owner and manager of the Gilded Theatre, smiled at him.

"Hiya, Duncan. Mr. Gildenstern wants last month's accounts. You finished yet?"

Duncan checked his sigh of relief. He chuckled. "Yeah. Tell him I'll be in his office in a few minutes."

"You all right, Duncan? You look all hot and bothered. You don't have a lady friend in there, do you?"

Tommy tried to peek into the apartment and Duncan stepped into the hall, forcing him back. Surprised, Tommy took several steps back. Duncan realized he'd taken an aggressive stance.

"Sorry, Tommy. It's just, this summer heat, you know?"

Tommy looked dubious but nodded and hurried off.

Duncan gathered several folders filled with sheafs of paper, including last months' accounts, this months' projections, and the transcribed script he'd finished the night before. Before he left, he looked at the girl in white, sleeping peacefully on his bed, and swallowed hard. The desire to stay with her, to keep her safe, was strong. But, he reasoned, the best thing he could do to keep her safe was to act as though nothing was out of the ordinary, which meant doing his job. So he hurried off to Mr. Gildenstern's office.

Hours later, when he returned, the girl was still asleep. Duncan sighed with relief. He'd been afraid she'd wake and leave, or that the guard would have found her and hauled her off.

Exhausted, the excitement of the day combined with the tedium of accounting reports catching up with him, Duncan shucked off his shirt and pants and laid down next to the girl in white. He should have felt embarrassed or awkward or aroused, instead he just felt right. He lay on his side, his chest against her back, his arm over her waist, and closed his eyes. He felt her breathing against his chest, and his breath synchronized with hers. He felt his heartbeat against her back and knew her heart beat in time with his. She sighed, content, and pressed against him. And before he slipped to sleep, Duncan wondered how this was possible and what he'd gotten himself into.

~*~

A crash and a scream ripped Duncan from sleep and slammed him against the floor. Smoke clogged his nose and made him cough. His whole body clenched and ached and shivered with a need he didn't understand.

"There she is. Grab her."

The voice was low and smooth and cultured. The meanace in that tone jerked Duncan to his feet, snapped his eyes open, and lashed his fists at the nearest body that wasn't him and wasn't the girl in white.

A man in the black uniform of the City Guardsman Guild stumbled back, his nose broken and gushing blood. Another pair of guards grabbed him from behind and held his arms. One of them punched him low on his back and he gasped with the pain.

On the narrow bed, the girl in white knelt, pressed back into the corner of the room while a man in a pale lavender shirt with golden cufflinks and a black vest trimmed in red and a black, silk top hat smiled at her. Purple smoke issued from a sweet-smelling pipe in his teeth. His hands were marked with purple and grey tattoos, most prominently a lotus. He was a mancer.

"A merry chase, girl, and the last straw. The Council's given you to me now."

The girl's wide eyes shone with fear. She looked at Duncan, pleading without words. Duncan struggled to escape, but the guards were too much for him.

The mancer waved at Duncan negligently. "Silence him."

His vision went white, his ears roared, his skin tingled.

~*~

Duncan came to and leapt to his feet, ready to lash out at another guard. Instead, he found himself in a small stone cubby with iron bars separating him from the rest of the room at large. It was dim and damp. No one seemed to be in the room beyond the bars. His right hand hurt and he flexed it gently.

"You hit someone recently?"

Duncan jumped at the voice.

The girl leaning against the back wall of the cell had thick, wavy auburn hair, dark skin, and golden eyes that fairly glowed. Though she was clad in nothing but a rough prison smock, she looked calm and collected.

"Uh, yeah," said Duncan.

"You planning on hitting me?"

Duncan shook his head.

"Then maybe you could lower your fists?"

Duncan hadn't realized he'd balled his fists and raised them as his father had taught him as a child. He did as she asked. As he did so, he realized he was clad only in a pair of brief shorts, the same he'd gone to bed in. He blushed, hoping the dim lighting hid his embarrassment.

"Good. I'd hate to have to beat you up. I think you can help me get out of here."

"We're in prison?" he asked, as much to distract himself from his state of undress as to find out what was going on.

The auburn girl shook her head. "Not exactly. We're prisoners of some lunatic mancer. A few days ago I was a regular prisoner of the Guardsman Guild. Now I..."

Though she appeared calm, her voice quavered.

"Anyway, we don't want to hang around if we can help it."

"Wait a moment, how do I know I'm not helping a murderer?"

The girl planted her fists on her hips and cocked her head at him. "You don't. And I don't know anything about you either. All I know is they brought you in here an hour ago, and that crazy mancer took the white-haired girl into his torture chamber.

Duncan's chest clenched and his voice went dry. "Torture?"

She nodded. "I think he gets off on it. He..." She shuddered.

"All right. What do you need of me?"

She swallowed hard and straightened. "The guards said they're coming for me next. They said he's gotten tired of... of beating the other girl. They said he likes the way I..."

Duncan spread his hands. "You don't have to tell me..."

"He likes the way I whimper."

Duncan shuddered.

"So, they'll be coming for me soon. I can take care of them, but once I do, I'll need your help."

"How so?"

"I'm a mancer."

Automatically, Duncan looked at her hands: they were tattoo free.

"It's a recent discovery, so no tattoos, and not a lot of control. The few times I've managed it, I didn't stay conscious for long. So, after I do my thing, I'll need you to carry me out of here."

Duncan had never been particularly strong, and he wasn't certain he could lift this girl; she was taller and broader than the girl in white, but he nodded.

"All right. And what are you going to—"

"He's calling for you, wench!"

Duncan was interrupted by the gravely voice of a man who wore the uniform of a guardsman of the guild, but sloppily. His neck was studded with scruff and his eyes were bloodshot and watery. With him was a slim, leering man who chuckled darkly. The man with bloodshot eyes pulled a ring threaded with keys from a pocket while the leering man drew his truncheon and slapped it into his palm.

"Now, no shenanigans from either of you or will give you such a trouncing that Master Vinum won't want you," said Bloodshot Eyes.

Leering Man laughed again. "You remember what happened last time, don't you wench?"

"Close your eyes," the auburn girl whispered.

Duncan had only a moment to realize she was talking to him. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away just as a brilliant burst of light filled the cubby and dazzeled him, even from behind his eyelids. The guards shouted. A series of thuds drummed against his ears, and then it was over. Darkness and silence numbed him, nearly made him forget what he was supposed to do next.

He turned to find the guards out cold, one of them with a busted lip. The auburn girl was still on her feet, fists clenched, but was clearly unsteady. She turned to face him and lashed out with her left fist. Duncan took a step back, but the punch was slow and off the mark and set her stumbling toward him. Duncan caught her before she could fall. She was definitely heavier than the girl in white.

He carried the auburn girl out of the cell, then dragged the guards into the cell. A quick search revealed only the one set of keys, and Duncan locked them in. Around a corner, he found the rest of the room.

The room contained three such cubbies around short corners, but none of the other cells was full. From the room, two doors lead. From behind one of the doors, Duncan heard a high, muffled cry. He knew it was the girl in white, that she was beyond the door and at the mercy of the man the auburn girl had called the crazy mancer.

The auburn girl was still out cold, just this side of the corner to the cell where they'd been held captive. The drive to bust into the next room and rescue the girl in white was immense, but he couldn't leave the auburn girl behind. He lifted her up over his left shoulder, his hand resting high on her thigh to keep her steady. At another muffled cry from beyond the door, Duncan stood, strode to the door, and kicked it open, all far more smoothly than a young scribe who didn't get regular exercise should have been able to.

The torture room wasn't any larger than the room that housed the cells.

Just inside the door, to the left, two girls knelt, bound in elaborate ropework: hands behind their backs, wrists bound to ankles, the ropes wrapped about their waists and between their breasts. One of the girls was brown skinned, eyed, and haired, with a plump, womanly figure. The other was pale with black hair and blue eyes and a slim, boyish figure. Both looked up at his entrance, eyes wide and frightened, cheeks tear-streaked

At the other end of the room stood a man with his back to Duncan; it was the same man who had busted into his apartment. Duncan reconized the purple lotus flowers tattooed on his hands. The mancer was naked from the waist up, his back covered in a sheen of sweat. His shirt and vest were neatly folded and sitting on a nearby stool, underneath the shiny, black top hat. He clenched a purple smoke-issuing pipe in his teeth. In his right hand, the man held a pale yellow rattan cane. And before Duncan could do anything to stop it, the man raised the cane and brought it down.

The girl was naked, her dress in tatters on the floor at her feet. She was bound to a diagonal cross, her arms and legs spread wide. Her hair had been bound in a braid. Her back was criss-crossed with the red weals of the cane over mottling purple bruises.

The torturer raised his hand to hit the girl again, unaware of Duncan. Duncan caught the man's arm before the next blow could land, spun the man about, and slugged him hard on the jaw. The torturer's eyes glazed, the pipe slid from his mouth, and he crumpled to the floor. In the next moment, instinct and adrenaline fled his system and the knuckles of his right hand began to throb. He fumbled at the ropes that bound the girl to the cross, but his fingers were thick and unresponsive. He began to tear at them with his fingernails to no avail.

"Oy! Can you here me?"

Duncan shook his head and looked around. The black-haired of the two bound girls was talking to him, but he couldn't hear the words. He shook his head again and tried to focus.

"There's a knife in the cabinet," she said slowly and clearly. She pointed with her chin as best she could, unable to move much thanks to the ropes that held her so intricately.

Duncan blinked.

Just to his left was a small standing cabinet. He opened the door and found a variety of tools: scissors, brushes, and a serrated knife. Duncan grabbed the knife and began carefully sawing at the ropes binding the girl's ankles. She gasped and groaned as her ankles were freed. Then he freed her wrists and she collapsed into him. Duncan carefully lowered her to the floor where she knelt, hiding her face against her knees, and sobbed. Duncan wanted to kneel with her, to sob with her, to comfort her, but there was more yet to do.

Duncan hurried to the bound girls. The borwn-haired, shapely girl with full breasts was nearest, so he cut her bonds first: ankles, wrists, and waist, until she could free herself from the rest. Then he freed the black-haired, slim girl.

"So," said the blue-eyed girl as she stood up, the knife Duncan had used to free her held in a reverse grip in her right hand. "What's the plan to get out of here."

Duncan shrugged. "I have no idea."

"You don't have a plan?" she sounded incredulous.

"I'm a prisioner here, same as you," Duncan snapped back. "Do you have a plan?"

She looked chagrined and blushed.

"They're coming," said the brown-haired girl.

"Who?" the blue-eyed girl

"More guards. I can feel them coming through the doorway next."

Duncan hurried to the door of the torture chamber and pushed it closed, turning the lock, for all the good it would do if they had keys. Also, it meant they were trapped. But at least it put a little time between them and the guards getting them. And they had the girl in white.

The auburn girl was still out cold on the floor. Duncan didn't remember setting her down. The brown-haired girl was still kneeling, covering her naked breasts with one hand, rubbing one chafed wrist with the other. The blue-eyed girl looked ready to go down fighting, unconcerned with her nudity.

Duncan hurried to the side of the girl with white-blonde hair, who had curled on her side in a tight ball, sobbing her pain and misery onto the uncaring stone beneath. He put a hand on her shoulder, and at his touch she took a long, hard breath and let it loose in a sigh. With that breath, Duncan felt her relax, as though he'd relieved some of her burden. His back began to ache, that ache pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

"We need to get out of here. Can you do your magic again?"

Before she could reply, the door to the chamber rattled. Duncan looked at the door, willing it to stay shut. Green light flashed into existence, outling the door, and the brown-haired girl grunted. 

"I can't hold it for long," she said, her voice high and breathy.

Duncan looked back at the beaten girl, the girl he felt a drive to protect. Around her neck, he noticed, was a thin leather cord, but he couldn't see what, if anything, it held.

"They're coming for us," Duncan said.

"I know," the girl whispered. "I don't think I can... I'm not sure I have the energy..."

Duncan stroked her shoulder gently, making sure to avoid any of the bruised, striped flesh of her back. He felt her take comfort at his touch. "You can do it, I know you can. You saved us from the guard yesterday, you can do it again today. Just focus."

The door rattled with a loud bang. The brown-haired girl whimpered. She bent nearly double, her head in her hands.

"It'll be all right," Duncan continued, keeping his voice low and smooth. "Just focus on getting us out of here."

"How the hell is she supposed to do that?" the blue-eyed girl demanded. She had her hands raised, ready for a fight, but her shoulders were slumped. She couldn't see a way out of their predicament. She was certain they'd be recaptured.

"I... I need you to focus too," said the white-blond girl. "Think of somewhere safe. Somewhere safer than your apartment."

Immediately, Duncan thought of the small town of Whiteoak on the edge of the forest, a bare bump on the southwest quarter of the Crimson Highway. Near the center of the town was a two-story house built by his father when the town was in its infancy. It was the house he'd grown up in. Whiteoak was far from Aiphledaliph, the Black City.

It was the safest place he could think of.

"There," said the girl.

And his vision filled with light, his ears with roaring, his skin with a tingle that stole away all else.


	3. Warder Kintaro

Duncan woke in his bed at his parents' house, the house he'd grown up in. Though the sun hadn't yet risen, he recognized the shadows on the ceiling, the feel of the bed, the smell of the wood paneling. He was home. Whatever it was the girl in white had done, he was home.

He tossed off the covers and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, ready to get up, get dressed, and decide what to do next. He was still clad only in the shorts he'd gone to bed in, and decided the first order of business would be to find some clothes. Last time he'd visited, his old wardrobe still had clothes in it.

Before he could stand, the bedroom door opened, and the girl in white walked in, lantern in hand. She was wearing a new dress: knee-length skirt, button-up blouse, and cinched with a simple cloth belt. Her white blonde hair was loose and flowing. She walked without pain, like the beating she'd taken had never happened.

"Duncan, you're awake."

"You know my name."

She nodded and smiled. "We're at your parents' house. They told us your name."

"So, the others are here too? Are they all right? Are you all right?"

"Your mother healed us up last night. She's quite adept at corpusmancy." The girl set the lantern on his dresser, closed the door, and clasped her hands behind her back.

Duncan nodded. His mother's power to heal injuries had served him well during his childhood.

"Speaking of which, what about you? What kind of mancer are you?"

"They called me a portamancer. Said it means I can travel long distances without having to go through the space between."

"Who's 'they'?"

She shrugged, a shadow of fear upon her face.

He wanted to protect her, to comfort her, to tell her that he would take care of her and that she need never be afraid again. He stood and held his hand out to her, and she came to him and pressed against his chest. He hugged her close. It felt right.

But it shouldn't have. He was naked but for a pair of brief shorts and he barely knew her. He didn't even know her name. It shouldn't have been possible that he felt so strongly for her.

Duncan chuckled. "I've been meaning to ask. What's your name?"

"Sau... um... Au... Aura. I think."

"You're uncertain of your own name?"

"Everything that came before: the people who kept me prisoner, who tried to control my power, all of it, it's... kind of a blur. My first clear memory is of you."

Aura pulled away from him and sat on the edge of his bed. He sat with her.

"I have to tell you something," she said.

Duncan nodded and waited.

"I was in that alley, and I was terrified. And then I saw you. You were buying an apple. And something about you made me feel less afraid. I can't explain it. It's really kind of ridiculous, but I knew you could protect me. I knew you could be my warder. So, I had to get your attention. I had to get you to protect me."

Duncan held up a hand. "Warder? You're talking about the old stories, like the Aegis Warders of Rosen, right?"

Aura nodded. "The Aegis of the Castle of Roses. Right. But I think you're focusing on the wrong part."

"I am?"

"I stole an apple, remember?"

Duncan shook his head. "No you didn't. I paid for it and then we left it behind. If anything, Mr. Cratchet was trying to cheat us."

Aura sighed. "But I tried to steal it, and I did it just to get your attention, to get you to protect me. I manipulated you."

"Oh." Duncan frowned. "Do you suppose that's why I feel so comfortable around you? I mean, I'm nearly naked, I barely know you, and yet I don't care."

Aura nodded. "Yes, precisely."

"But that sort of thing doesn't really happen. Not outside of old stories and folklore anyway."

"It requires magic. Before I... ran away or escaped or whatever it is I did, I took this." She reached into the bodice of her dress and withdrew a small pendant. Engraved upon its face was a five pointed star knotted with a circle.

"It's the symbol of aegis, of the warder," Aura explained. "And I used it to tie you to me, to make you want to protect me."

"I see."

Aura looked relieved. "Good. So, you're angry with me now?"

Duncan shook his head. "Not at all. You did what you needed to survive. Besides, it's turned out all right so far."

"Duncan, I don't think you understand. In the old stories, the warders they..." she blushed. "They, uh, kept the people they were protecting in line. It was the way it worked."

Dunacn loved to read and was familiar with the old stories: The Green Dragon Knight had often spanked Queen Amberly Heart; Issac the Sage had used the cane on his husband Meryl the Fencer; there were even stories of Satelyd Citeva, the woman for whom the old nation of Citeva had been named, being physically chastised by her Aegis Warders.

That's when Duncan realized what Aura was getting at.

His chest ached and his palm itched with the sudden desire to spank her, to pull her over his lap and smack her bottom until it was bright red and she was sobbing penitence. It was unlike anything he'd ever wanted before, but he could not deny the shiver of excitement the thought gave him.

But that wasn't good enough.

"You haven't done anything wrong. There's no reason to spank you."

Aura grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a shake. "Duncan, if you're going to be a warder, you're going to have to understand when a girl needs a spanking, and it's not always just because she's been naughty."

Duncan crossed his arms. "I'm not going to spank you just because."

"I cast a spell on you without your permission. Isn't that cause enough?"

That gave Duncan pause. She was right. Just because he was all right with it now didn't mean she'd had the authority to force him to be her warder, to desire to protect her, to get caught up in whatever trouble she was caught up in.

The itch in his palm intensified.

He bit his tongue and tried to deny it, but the more he considered it, the more it felt right—as right as sleeping next to her, as embracing her, as being nearly naked and unashamed in front of her was right.

"Please, Duncan?"

"All right. What you did, it was wrong. And I'm going to spank you for it."

Aura smiled at him. She climbed onto the bed, kneeling at his side and, biting her lip gently, she lifted her dress over her hips, revealing her thin pale legs and white panties. Carefully she draped herself over his thighs, stretching out on his bed.

Duncan swallowed hard and put a hand on Aura's back. He had never spanked anybody before and was unsure of what to do. Of course, he knew what to do in theory, having received several as a child, but receiving a spanking giving a spanking were two completely different events.

Duncan stared at her panties, fitted tightly, hugging her small, round bottom, the white waist band tied into a firm bow in back.

Aura remained patient.

He tugged the end of the waistband ribbon and it came untied. He pulled the loosened panties and they slid easily over her smooth, round bottom. She gasped and shivered and her skin goosepimpled.

He put his left hand on her back to keep himself steady and took a breath to calm his nerves. He was thrilled and terrified, excited and nervous. Aura was a pretty girl and he had her half naked under his hands. It was the first time he'd ever been so close to a girl's naked bottom. He put his right hand on her bottom. It was soft and firm, and he patted it gently, watching it bounce.

Then he took another breath and reminded himself of his duty. He spanked her and the crack of his palm on her naked bottom echoed around his bedroom.

A bright pink splotch rose on the smooth, pale surface. Duncan's breath caught. Aura yelped. On the perriferary of his thoughts, Duncan worried about the sounds of the spanking carrying through the house, but his focus remained on her bottom. He spanked her again and another pink splotch rose on her bottom. The spanking felt right, it felt good. It felt like having Aura over his lap, bottom bared, being spanked was the only thing that mattered in the world and that he was fulfilling his life's work by doing it.

So he spanked her slowly, methodically, not particularly hard, but with a building sting that would spread.

"Ohhh..." Aura began to make little high-pitched noises of distress. The white of her bottom quickly turned a light shade of pink. He watched the bounce of her bottom, the kick of her feet, the shake of her shoulders. And then she began to cry.

Duncan knew his duty was done. Like so much that had happened since he'd met Aura, he didn't know how he knew, he just knew.

For a few minutes, she cried and he rubbed her bottom gently. When she got her breathing under control, she pushed herself back to her knees, the tears already drying on her cheeks, reddened much as her bottom was. She hiked up her skirt in back and rubbed at her bottom, staring at him with her wide, grey-green eyes shining with tears.

Duncan felt his breath quicken and his skin tighten.

Aura leaned forward and kissed him, gently, on the cheek. The kiss lingered and tingled on his skin. She put a hand on his shoulder to steady herself, and Duncan shifted so he was facing her, putting a hand on her wiast. She pulled back, breathing hard.

"Thank you, Duncan."

"Uh..."

Aura leaned in again, embracing him and pressing herself against him, her chest against his, her waist against his, her thighs against his. She was warm and damp and the feeling of her on him was perfect.

A rap at the door interrupted them.

"Aura? Are you in there? Is Duncan all right?"

It was his mother.

Aura was on her feet in a moment, the skirt of her new dress falling to cover her newly spanked bottom. She went to the door, and Duncan only had a moment to pull his blanket up around himself before she opened it. His mother was in the hallway, and when she saw that he was up, she pushed past Aura and to his side to hug him firmly.

"Oh, Duncan, I was so worried. You all just appeared in our living room, we had no idea what was going on. I was afraid they'd killed you."

Duncan hugged her back. "I'm fine mom. Aura told me your powers came through for us again."

She laughed and squeezed him tighter before letting him go. "Always getting in over your head." She turned and looked over her shoulder at Aura. "Did he ever tell you about the time he climbed the tallest tree in the woods he could find and then couldn't get down without falling and breaking his wrist and fracturing two ribs?"

Duncan blushed. "Come on, mom. I don't think now's the time for embarrassing stories."

His mother smiled at him. "There's always time for embarrassing stories, dear. Perhaps we'll have a few over breakfast. It should be ready soon. Hazel's been helping me."

When his mother said her name, Duncan knew without knowing how, that Hazel was the brown haired, full-bodied girl, the one who'd held the door shut with her magic.

She released him, kissed his cheek, and stood. "I'd better get to it then. I'll see you downstairs." She patted Aura's arm affectionately as she passed, and then it was just him and Aura again.

Aura looked at him, smiling. "Your mom's really nice."

Duncan nodded. "I've always thought so."

"I told her I'd help with breakfast. So... see you in a bit."

When he was alone again, Duncan found some clothes and got dressed: a pair of grey shorts, leather and linen kecks, a grey linen shirt, and socks. He even found a pair of old leather half boots—a good outfit for travel. Then he found an old backpack and packed few more of the same. It was nice to be home, it felt good, but he knew he couldn't stay here. Whether the pipe-smoking mancer had the support of the Mancer Council or not, Duncan felt strongly the man would be after them. He would not lead that man to his parents' house.

Dressed and packed, Duncan went downstairs.

In the kitchen, he found Aura and the auburn girl sitting at the small table, and his mother and the brown-haired girl, Hazel, at the stove.

The auburn girl stood when he entered. She was tall with broad shoulders and an athletic build. Her thick, wavy auburn hair had been trimmed short and practical. Her golden eyes were set off by her tanned skin. She was wearing a dress of similar style to Aura's: a knee-length skirt held with simple cloth belt, a button up blouse and short sleeves, though hers was orange rather than white.

She held her hand out to Duncan.

"Katherine Brand. You can call me Katie."

"Duncan Kintaro." He took her hand and she shook firmly.

At her touch, Duncan felt a faint shiver, a faint clench of his shoulders.

"Yes. Thank you for your assistance." Katie cleared her throat. "I'm indebted to you. Whatever assistance you require, I am at your service."

Duncan nodded. A plan was beginning to take shake in his mind, and another set of hands would be helpful. Especially a pair of hands with a bit of magic behind them.

"Oh!" said Hazel, wiping her hands on the apron his mother had loaned her. "Me too." She stepped forward, hand extended. Her brown hair, which had been damp and stringy in the dungeon was now cleaned and brushed, held back from her face with a simple tie. She, too, wore a simple dress, hers in green.

Duncan took her hand and, again, felt the faint shiver, the faint tense of his shoulders, chest, arms.

She released him with a small look of surprise. "Ah, well, I also owe you a debt. So, you know, if you need a cook or a seamstress or something, I'm a hestiamancer. I can help."

Travis looked around the kitchen. "What about the blue-eyed girl? Did she not get out?"

"She did," Aura assured him. "I think she's still in bed."

"About her," said Katie. "It's not that I think we should have left her in that dungeon, but I'm not sure she's entirely trustworthy. Whatever you plan to do next, I caution against involving her."

"I thought she was all right," Hazel said.

"She's friendly enough, but when Mrs. K. was cutting our hair yesterday, the way she talked about her acquisitions in Aiphledaliph made me think she's a professional thief."

"Thank you for your counsel, Katie," Duncan said. "I'm not quite sure what we're going to do next."

"But we're not staying, are we?" said Aura. The three of them looked at her and she pointed at the backpack Duncan had brought down with him.

Duncan nodded. "I don't know if that mancer was acting on his own or if he's got the backing of the Aiphledaliph Council. Either way, I don't want to lead him here."

He looked past Katie and Hazel to where his mother stood at the counter, looking at him and smiling sadly.

"Is dad around? I want to talk to him."

His mother nodded. "He's in the shop."

The road outside the house was broad, constructed of wide, red paving stones, the Crimson Highway. Across the highway was the town's woodworking store, where his father built and sold everything from boxes and barrels to tables and chairs to building maintenance and repair.

The sun had only just begun to rise, and the windows of the shop were dark. But the door was unlocked, and Duncan went in.

When he entered, the smell of sawdust and woodglue made him feel at home.

There was no one at the counter, but he could hear the sound of saw on wood from the back of the shop and threaded his way between tables, trunks, and bookcases to the work area. There, his father stood at a long table, sawing a plank, likely a shelf for the cabinet that stood half finished on the table, held together with vices.

"Hand me that vise," his father said. He was of average height with large arms and a full, black beard.

Duncan grabbed the vise and put in his father's outstretched hand.

With a little glue, his father put the shelf in the cabinet and secured it with the vice and a few nails. When he was done, he turned and dusted off his hands.

"Well, did you learn anything?"

Duncan nodded. "The Black City keeps its wealth and opportunity close to its chest. Did you get the money I sent?"

"We did. And the shop's doing better."

"Good."

"I don't suppose this means you'll be moving home?"

Duncan shook his head. "I'd like to, but I think they'll be after us."

"All right. Do you have a plan?"

"Regnessa, the City of Justice. Their council doesn't answer to the Mancer Council. They've been known to grant amnesty."

"That bad, is it?"

"I'm not certain, but it seems the safest bet. I... I don't suppose you and mom would come with us?"

His father chuckled and ran a hand over his beard. "No, I don't think so. Your mother and I have been here for a long time. I don't think we could move on even if we wanted to." He put a hand on Duncan's shoulder. "Don't worry about us. We can look after ourselves."

"All right."

"Duncan, I have to say... four women... that's an awful lot of responsibility. A good cotire will take care of its members, but they'll look to you to lead, to keep them together, to keep them in line. Are you ready for that?"

Duncan shook his head. "I don't know, but I do know I can't leave Aura on her own. Something happened when we met, and we're tied to each other now. If the others come along, well, we'll just have to figure it out I suppose."

"Yes. I suppose you will." He looked past Duncan to the front of the shop and across the street. "Come on, I think breakfast is ready."

~*~

The six of them crammed around the kitchen table, helping themselves to oatmeal, buttered rolls, and fried porkside. They ate in companiable silence for a time. Evenetually, his mother said, "Michael, do remember the time Duncan figured he must be descendand from beavers and tried to build a dam on little creek?"

His father chuckled and the girls laughed.

Duncan said, "Mother, must you?"

"I remember," his father said. "I remember the farmers downstream were furious."

Despite his protests, Duncan's parents shared stories of his childhood: the time he'd climbed a tree to get honey from a hornet's nest, the time he'd tried to befriend a feral tomcat, the time he'd fallen asleep in the woods and didn't get home until midnight.

"Did you spank him for it?"

They all looked up from the table to the kitchen door to find the blue-eyed girl had finally joined them. Her new dress was in the same style as the others: knee-length, button up, short sleeves. It was dark purple.

Duncan's mother cleared her throat gently. "Misbehavior is always answered with a spanking, Ms. Shade." Then she looked around at the others. "You all go pack your things. Duncan and I will clean up."

"But, we haven't got any things," Hazel said.

Duncan's mother smiled at her. "Of course you do. All those clothes you helped me to mend yesterday, and the rolls you helped me bake."

Katie stood. "Thank you, Mrs. Kintaro. That's very kind of you. Ladies, come on." She pushed past the blue-eyed girl and headed upstairs. Aura and Hazel followed.

"I'm going back to the shop. Make sure you stop by before you leave, Duncan," his father said."

Duncan stood and approached the blue-eyed girl. "I'm Duncan. Nice to meet you." He extended his hand.

She smiled sardonically. "I know who you are. You can call me Shade." She shook his hand, but with her smile it seemed a joke.

"We'll be leaving soon," Duncan said. "If you want to come with us, that is."

She shrugged. "I don't know yet. We'll see."

Duncan turned back to the kitchen, and while he and his mother began clearing the breakfast plates, the blue-eyed girl, Shade, sauntered into the kitchen. There were a pair of rolls still on the counter and she reached for one.

"So, is this breakfast?"

His mother was quick. She took up a wooden spoon from the counter and smacked it on Shade's backside. Shade yelped and jerked her hand back. His mother pointed her spoon at the girl.

"Everyone else got up when I told them to and helped make breakfast. There are no free meals in this house. If you don't help, you can make your own."

"But that's not fair. I don't know how to cook."

"Well, then you can help clean up."

Shade pouted.

Duncan chuckled. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Mom's been known to spank pouters."

Shade grinned at him. "Oh, I see. And is that why she was spanking one of the other girls this morning?"

"I did no such thing," his mother said.

"Well then, who did?"

"Duncan, of course."

Duncan blushed as he worked the pump over the sink to wash the dishes. Of course they'd heard him spanking Aura. It wasn't that big a house and spankings weren't meant to be quiet.

"Why?" Shade asked him.

"That's between me and Aura," Duncan said. "And if you want breakfast, you'd better start handing me plates off the table."

Shade sighed but did as she was told.

~*~

Once they were fed and packed and ready to go, they all crowded into Duncan's father's shop.

"So, Regnessa, is it?"

Duncan nodded. "The City of Justice is known to protect people fleeing the Mancer's Guild. I think we'll be safe there."

"That's quite a walk. I can't offer you much, but I can offer these."

In a barrel was a collection of walking sticks, shaped and polished by his father. There were sticks a head taller than Duncan and only half as tall, all made to fit a hand comfortably. His father had tried to teach him the deceptively difficult art of chosing the right kind of branch for making into a walking stick, but Duncan had never been much of a student when it came to carpentry.

"Oh, Mr. K., thank you," Aura said. She stepped forward first and selected a smooth, white stick nearly as tall as herself carved with intricate knotwork at the top.

"Yes, thank you," said Katie as she selected a stick stained and polished a deep brown. It was straight and tapered and she held it two handed, almost like a sword.

Hazel selected an oddly crooked stick that, when she held it, looked almost like an upside down question mark with a leg off its curve. She hugged Duncan's father and kissed his cheek.

Shade selected a dark-stained stick without much deliberation and no word of thanks.

"Thanks, dad," Duncan said. He hugged his father.

After some thought, he selected a walking stick about three quarters his own height made of grey wood that shone almost silver with its polish.

He looked at the girls, backpacks on their backs, walking sticks in hand, and nodded.

"We've a long way to go."


	4. The Mancer Council

Interlude

The high bench upon which sat the full Mancer Council, swathed in shadow and authority, loomed over the simple, low stool upon which Keraf Vinum, Lotusmancer, sat. He grinned at them, drifting in the haze of a well-packed pipe. They hadn't let him bring it in, of course, but he'd gotten himself well-hazed before answering the summons.

"You lost her. You lost the Scion of Citeva." The voice came from the shadows of the council, but not clearly from any one shadow. Keraf had long ago given up trying to determine which mancers sat on the council. Instead, he thought of them as a sort of collective entity, a single being with many mouths. The thought made him grin laconically.

Keraf shrugged. "An unforeseen complication."

"Complication?" The shadows hissed.

"She could destroy us."

"Not just us, everyone."

"The Allied City States."

"The world."

Keraf shook his head and waited for the Council to settle down.

"I'll go collect her then?" Keraf said into the eventual quiet.

"You?" sneered a shadow. "We gave her to you and you lost her."

"As I said—"

"Yes. We've heard your excuses." The shadow leaned down from the high bench of the Mancer Council to glare at him. It was the wizened old aeromancer, Kristoph Lee, master of the light rapier, a grim old bastard Keraf had never particularly liked.

"An unpowered boy defeated you in single combat. Disgraceful." Master Lee sat back, settling into the shadows. "We'll send you to retrieve the Scion of Citeva, yes, but not alone. You can't be trusted to master your indulgences."

"I don't need help tracking her. I've the best nose—"

"A nose you've stuffed with every flavor of powder between here and the City of Ships," another voice hissed.

"You drew her blood," said another.

Keraf shrugged uncomfortably. "You knew that might happen when you gave her to me."

Off to his left, the door to the chamber opened, and a woman came in. She was tall and lithe and pale. Her arms were bare to the shoulder and were marked with thin, neat scars. Despite his sudden trepidation, he couldn't help but lick his lips at the sight of her. She was beautiful, and his hands itched to have her under them, to bind her, to whip her, to...

She slapped him.

Through his ringing ears and blurred vision, Keraf watched her lick her fingers and he realized she'd cut his cheek when she'd hit him.

The woman spat.

"Your blood is tainted. You abuse your power."

Keraf laughed, deep and throaty.

"Sangromancer Markov will accompany you, Keraf. This is your mistake, you'll clean it up, but Madam Markov here will keep and eye on you. And, since you spilled the blood of the Scion of Citeva, she'll be able to track her far more quickly than you."

Keraf was still laughing.

"Does this amuse you, Keraf?" Master Lee demanded, leaning again from the shadows to glare at him. "You've put us all at great risk."

"Yes, of course," he said, swallowing his mirth and gingerly touching the cut high on his cheek. "I was just thinking, this is going to be fun."

"Bah!" Master Lee sat back. "We should do away with him and just send the sangromancer."

"No."

The voice was curt and decisive.

"It has been decided. Keraf Vinum and Charity Markov will fetch the Scion. Only once the girl is safely returned to us, can we be certain of our seats. If it gets out that Citeva, Queen of Aiphledaliph, had a daughter, we'll all be reduced to parliamentary procedure. If the girl realizes her power, we'll be reduced to naught. We cannot risk sending a force that might spook the other city states. We send Vinum and Markov."

The silence stretched through the shadows to Keraf's sternum, making him tingle nervously. Was the Council planning a move on one of the other city states? It was a tidbit he'd not been privy to before and allowed for all sorts of potential. Soldiers were miserable and wanted the comfort of a mug of ale or a sniff of powder, and no one made better powder than he did. If war was coming, he was set to make a tidy profit. If he could begin to corner the market now...

"Go now," said the commanding voice. "Find the Scion. Bring her back."


	5. The Crimson Highway: Part 1

Part 1

The Crimson Highway cut through the woods without deviation for tree or hill or stream, curving faintly to the left. Its flat, tightly-fitted, dark-crimson stones remained clear of fallen branches and detritus. Duncan had traveled the Crimson Highway often between Aiphledaliph and his small hometown, and though the history of the Allied City States was filled with highway robbers, he knew the Crimson Highway was one of the safest places in the world thanks to the Highway Patrol.

They set an easy pace.

Katie took the lead confidently, her new walking stick thrust into her pack, one end sticking above her right shoulder, like a sword handle. Behind her, walking close together, were Hazel and Aura, whispering quietly. Behind them walked Shade, gawking at the surrounding forest like she'd never seen one before. Duncan walked behind them all, watching them in the early morning sun as it filtered through the trees.

Katie was wide-shouldered, filling the breadth of her orange dress. Her stride was strong and purposeful, her skirt swaying around her knees. She wore leather ankle-high shoes. Her dark skin shone in the early dawn.

Hazel, too, filled the breadth of her dress, her ample breasts and hips, her narrow waist, giving her a womanly figure. Her waist-length, brunette hair was held back with a simple leather tie. Next to her, Aura's slim frame looked boyish, her white-blond hair snowy, her pale skin fairly glowed. Her walking stick clicked on the highway with steady rhythm.

Shade wore her shiny, black hair loose. Her purple dress swung loosely about her frame. She wandered around the highway, not sticking with the group, examining the trees and bushes, starting at the sounds and movements of animals.

An hour or so after dawn, they were met on the highway by a patrol. It was a regular patrol of an officer on horseback and a trio of patrolmen on foot armed with swords but wielding pushbrooms to keep the highway clean. The officer was clad in a starched crimson coat with golden buttons and marks of rank. The soldiers wore uniforms of the same color but obviously meant to be work clothes.

Duncan automatically reached inside his jacket pocket for his passport, and realized the girls wouldn't have theirs, that they may not have ever had one. Quickly, he moved up beside Katie as the officer nodded to them.

"Good morning, folks." He checked a clipboard. "I don't see a note of your party on the highway recently. Passports please."

Duncan handed the officer his small leather book, thinking quickly. "Ah, these girls are with me, sir. This is their first time on the highway. They haven't got passports yet."

Next to him, he saw Katie stiffen and frown. Behind him, he heard Shade snort with amusement.

"Hmm..." The officer took his passport and frowned. "You're all adults, or near enough. You should have gotten passports with you left your city."

"We're from a small town," Duncan said. "There's no passport station in town. I'll get them set up when we stop tonight."

Shade giggled.

Duncan looked back at her to see her rolling her eyes and smirking. His palm began to itch, but he turned back to the officer who was making a note on his clipboard.

"And which town is that..." he glanced at Duncan's passport, "Mister Kintaro?"

"Whiteoak," Duncan replied, seeing no reason to lie.

The officer grumbled under his breath, but eventually handed back his passport. "Very well. Be sure that you get your girls their passports. A note will be made."

Shade laughed out loud

Duncan ground his teeth, took the passport and nodded. "I will."

"And you might have a talk with your girl about proper respect as well."

Duncan nodded.

The patrol moved on.

Duncan turned and glared at Shade.

"What?" Shade demanded. "You're not my daddy. I don't need you to take care of me or claim me or whatever."

Katie responded before Duncan could. "Don't be stupid, brat. If Duncan hadn't claimed us, the patrol would have been required to take us in, at which point they'd have discovered we're fugitives."

Shade rolled her eyes again. "I'm faster than you think, fire-hair."

"Where would you have run?" Katie demanded. "Do you know how to survive in the woods?" She clenched her fists and squared her shoulders, like she was ready for a brawl.

Shade took a step forward, her hands at her sides, shoulders to the side. She, too, looked ready for a fight.

"That's enough." Duncan stepped between them.

"I don't have to take this," Shade said. "I'll go my own way."

"Good," said Katie. "We don't need a sneaking little thief anyway."

Shade pressed forward, brushing past Duncan. "You have something to say to me, bitch!?"

Duncan reacted without thinking. A flush warmth suffused him, a tingle that zipped from his chest to his shoulders to his hands. He put a hand on Shade's shoulder, spun her around, and smacked her backside with a crack that echoed through the trees.

In the silence that followed, Duncan swallowed hard. His palm tingled.

Shade gasped, both hands going to her bottom. She turned to face him, backing up a step. She was blushing furiously, her eyes down-cast, her shoulders hunched.

"Sorry," she said quickly.

"That's not good enough," Katie said.

But Duncan pointed at her. "I said, enough." His voice lowered and the warmth pulsed in his chest. He shifted his gaze to Shade. "If you don't want to travel with us, that's fine. I recommend you stick to the highway." He pointed back the way they'd come. "You can get back to Aiphledaliph that way. When the highway branches, turn right. It's about a week's walk if you don't dawdle."

"I can't go back there," Shade said, eyes wide.

"You're welcome to come with us," he said. "But if you do, I expect you not to draw undue attention. We're in hiding."

Shade nodded.

"And I expect you all to treat each other with respect." He looked at Katie to include her. "You don't have to like each other, but if we're going to get through this together, we've got to be able to trust each other. Understood?"

They all nodded.

~*~

As the sun began to dim, they stopped at a hostel, one of the many erected beside the highway. It was a two-storied, peak-roofed building with red-painted trim and door. The front room held a desk behind which sat a thin, elderly man with greying hair and thin spectacles.

Duncan handed over his passport.

"I'm afraid the girls don't have their passports yet," he explained before being asked. "This is their first time on the Highway. We were hoping to get them this evening."

The man looked up at Duncan from his passport, brows furrowed. "Kintaro? You're not related to Lady Camron Kintaro, are you?"

Duncan nodded. "She was my aunt, my father's sister."

"I served with Lady Kintaro hereabouts when this was all still bandit lands. She saved my hide more than once with that massive hammer she carried. Were you old enough to attend the funeral?"

Duncan clenched his jaw and nodded. He'd been a child when his aunt and her daughter, his older cousin, had died.

"Yes, I remember a little boy. He recited the Citevan Warder's poem. That was you, was it?"

Duncan nodded again.

"Here, listen to me going on and you just wanting a room. But..." the clerk flipped through Duncan's passport. "You haven't the crest on your passport."

"Crest?" Duncan shook his head. "I'm not a..."

"Not a problem," the clerk interrupted. He pulled a few items from his desk including crimson wax, and a signet stamp. The wax he heated over the lantern candle on his desk, then he pressed it onto the first page of Duncan's passport before stamping it with the seal of the Crimson Highway, a quartered circle.

"There you are, Lord Kintaro," he said, before flipping to the first empty page and stamping it in ink with the same quartered circle.

"I'm not really a lord," Duncan said quickly.

The old man looked at him steadily. "Lady Kintaro was a Brigidear General of the Highway Patrol. By Highway tradition the privilege of lordship is conferred upon the next generation. That would have passed to her daughter, but..."

He held the passport out to Duncan who took it.

"Now. About your girls. If they'll sign this book and you and I sign as witness, we'll get their passports sorted." Signing the clerk's book and receiving their passports was a matter of minutes. Hazel Diana Hearth wrote in a carefully neat hand while Katherine Sophia Brand wrote in strong, blocky letters. Shade wrote her full name as Shandra Calisto Ydris in a flowing script. Aura wrote her name simply as Aura, the single word in a simple hand. When the girls all had their small, brown leather bound passports, the clerk returned his attention to Duncan

"Will you be paying for a room this evening, Lord Kintaro?"

"Ah, no, I haven't much money..."

The clerk nodded understandingly. "A pilgrimage, is it? Not a problem, sir. I can offer you a room with a pair of bunks and a hot dinner."

"That'll be fine. Thank you."

The common room was taken with a smattering of guests: a young husband and wife with a baby; a large, thick man with a shaved head and a sour countenance; and a trio of men in rich clothing, each with vivid tattoos upon his hands.

Duncan led the girls to a table against one wall.

The hearth lay cold as the summer had been hot enough. A young man in a plain apron served them hot venison stew with potatoes and onions.

"Did you see the mancers?" Shade asked quietly.

"What?" said Hazel, agitated. "Where?" She looked around nervously.

"Don't look," Katie and Shade said at the same time.

Hazel hunched her shoulders while Katie and Shade glared at each other.

"It's unlikely they're here for us," Travis said. "Let's just keep our heads down, finish our meals, and go to bed."

"Good plan," Katie said.

"Good plan," Shade repeated in a high, mocking tone.

Duncan shot her glare and she raised both hands.

"All right, sorry, daddy." But she rolled her eyes and her tone remained mocking.

"Let it go," Duncan said to Katie before she could respond angrily. "We don't need to attract attention."

Katie growled but nodded.

When they were finished, Duncan gathered the bowls to take to the kitchen.

"Why don't you all go to our room. There's no sense in lingering."

Aura yawned and Hazel stretched. The four of them stood, Shade without hint of sarcastic comment, and filed off. Duncan took their bowls to the kitchen and received a nod of thanks from the young man in the apron.

On his way back through the common room, he couldn't help but overhear one of the mancers, a man with oakleaves tattooed on his hands and crawling up one arm, say to his compatriots in a low voice, "The Sisters of Justice will never listen to reason. I don't understand why the Council is dragging their feet."

"Because, you idiot, the White City is beloved by the populace. Every other city state in the Alliance would back them over us if we attacked." The man who responded had tattoos of purple and black with points of white like stars.

"The Mancers Guild is far more powerful than the Sisters of Justice," groused oak leaf.

"Maybe so," replied the third of the group, a man with sunburst tattoos. "But we need to show the people of the Alliance that the White City has become corrupted. Attacking unprovoked would only make us the aggressors..."

Duncan could not linger to hear more of the conversation without being obvious, so he hurried to the room that had been assigned to him and his girls. He opened the door without knocking, thinking only to tell them what he'd heard.

The room was small with a two-level bunk on both sides, only a narrow aisle between them. Aura sat with her knees to her chest on the bottom left bunk, clad in a simple white nightgown, her white hair over one shoulder, slowly pulling a brush through it. Next to her sat Hazel in a pale green nightgown, braiding her hair. In the narrow aisle, Shade, her back to him was pulling her pink nightgown from her bag. She was bare from tip to toe, her pale skin in stark contrast to her black hair. Katie shared the aisle with her, just pulling her bright orange panties down off her bottom.

Katie bent as she removed her panties, bumping into Shade in the narrow space. Shade stumbled backward toward Duncan.

"Hey! Watch it, fire-hair!"

"You watch it, brat!"

Duncan took in the scene in a matter of moments.

"Oh!" he said, and quickly closed the door.

There was some shouting and grumbling and a high, gentle laugh. Someone shouted in alarm, there was a muted conversation, and a chorus of laughs. Then the door opened.

Katie, her pale orange nightgown in place, her short, curly auburn hair askew, glared at him. "Don't you know how to knock?"

Hazel giggled, her hand over her mouth.

Katie kept her glare on Duncan.

"Ah, sorry. I just... I overheard something that you all need to hear. I didn't mean to..." Though he'd seen them naked and bound in the dungeon, this was different in a way he couldn't explain. 

Katie grunted and backed up to allow him in. Aura and Hazel still sat on the bottom left bunk together, they were both grinning mischievously. Shade sat on the top right bunk, the blanket pulled up to her chin though clearly she was wearing her nightgown now. Her pale cheeks were florid with embarrassment.

"Sorry," he said again.

"What was it you wanted to tell us?" Aura asked gently.

"Right." Duncan told them about the overheard conversation between the mancers. "My original thought was that we'd seek refuge in the White City, but if there's going to be a war, maybe we should change our plans. What do you all think?"

"As I understand it, the White City is well prepared for war," Katie said.

"I don't want to get involved in a war," Shade said. "Little people like us die in wars."

"Are you afraid to fight for your beliefs?" Katie demanded.

"My beliefs don't include dying in some stupid conflict," Shade shot back.

Duncan held up a hand before the fight could get out of hand. "My goal is to get us all somewhere safe. I have no love for the Mancers Guild, but I'm not ready to take up arms against them yet. Any other ideas?"

Hazel raised her hand like a school girl.

Duncan looked at her. "Yes?"

"There are some towns east of the White City, outside the bounds of the Allied City States. Perhaps their war won't stretch so far as that."

Duncan nodded. "That has some potential. But I've heard there are more bandits out there too."

After several moments where no one offered any other suggestions, Duncan said, "Well, there's time to make that decision. We still have to pass through the Banking City before we even get to the City of Justice. And the Banking City has a... nefarious reputation. So, step at a time."

The girls turned their backs while Duncan quickly slipped in to a soft, grey nightgown. He assured them he was fine sleeping on the floor and insisted they take the bunks. He set his walking stick in the corner by the door, where the girls had set theirs, then made himself as comfortable as he could on the floor with his pack for a pillow and an extra blanket from the cupboard.


	6. The Crimson Highway: Part 2

Part 2

He dreamt of the girls.

On a field of void spangled by stars they stood, each a body of light, hazy and indistinct but recognizable: the orange of fire and purple of shadow, the green of home and the white of travel. In his dream they slept, deep and restful, and he stood guard over their dreams, over their sleep, keeping them safe. Most clear in his mind lay Aura, her every detail picked out in gentle white light.

~*~

After a light breakfast, they were on the road again, making their way to [Name], the Banking City. They took up a similar order as before, Katie at the lead, Aura and Hazel next, Shade after them, and Duncan at the rear.

The lights from his dream superimposed upon them for a moment: orange, white, green, and purple, matching the simple dresses they wore. The vision made him stumble, and he shook his head to clear it.

"I have an idea," Hazel said into the early morning quiet. "Perhaps we could get to know each other. If we're going to be traveling as far as Regnessa together, and possibly further, we should know a bit about one another. Don't you think?"

"Sure," said Aura.

Katie shrugged and Shade didn't respond.

"Well," said Hazel, nudging Aura with an elbow. "Where'd you grow up?"

"I... uh... I don't know. I can't remember anything before a few days ago. Not clearly anyway."

"Oh," said Hazel, her voice faltering.

"I do remember that I was running from the Mancer Council. And I remember that they called me a portamancer, which is how I got us all away from the dungeon to Mr. and Mrs. Kintaro's house." 

"Maybe you want to say that a little louder?" Shade hissed. "I don't think all of the Highway Patrol heard you."

Aura blushed and hunched her shoulders.

"It's not illegal to be a mancer," Katie said, glaring over her shoulder at Shade.

"It is if you don't have a tattoo," Shade shot back, showing her hands to the group. "I don't see anyone here with any tattoos, do you?"

"I only just realized my powers," Katie said. "There wasn't an opportunity to get tattoos before I was arrested."

Shade threw her hands in the air. "Oh, fine, let's just announce to anyone who might be listening that we're fugitives in addition to untattooed mancers. What's wrong with you people?"

Though her tone was nasty, Duncan agreed with Shade, the highway wasn't the best place to discuss their fugitive or mancer nature. "Maybe we could find something else to talk about?" he suggested.

But Katie just continued to lead, Hazel hunched her shoulders, and Shade remained silent.

The day's walk was uneventful and boring. They stopped at midday to finish the rolls and cheese Duncan's mother had provided them. They stopped as the sun began to set at a hostel that looked very much like the previous one. The young man at the front desk provided them with a single room with two bunk beds, just like the night previous.

~*~

Again, he dreamed of the girls. Shade lay curled in deep shadow of velvet night, sleeping quietly. Katie slept in golden-orange warmth, her hair a flicker of flame. Hazel was wrapped in the deep emerald of her blanket, secure. Only Aura fidgeted, asleep but not peaceful. The girl of white light tossed from side to side, uncomfortable and dissatisfied.

She opened her eyes, her bright, pearlesanct eyes, and looked at Duncan even as he looked at her. It was as though he lay on his back, staring into the deep night sky and she lay above him, staring down. She smiled at him, her delicate lips curved gently.

She was only a breath away now, her pale, smooth skin like white light, bare to him as he was to her and his whole body tightened with anticipation. She reached out and touched his shoulder.

~*~

Duncan woke before the girls.

He rose and changed from his nightgown to a pair of grey kecks and shirt. As he was pulling his boots on, Aura reached out from where she lay on the bottom right bunk and touched his thigh. Duncan started, but relaxed when he saw her looking at him through the shadows of the pre-dawn.

He knelt and took her hand in his. "Are you all right?"

She nodded. "I had a dream. About you."

His heart quickened and his body tightened. She squeezed his hand. Through the shadows he wondered if she could see his blush.

"Are you going out?" she asked.

"I thought I'd get us breakfast."

"That's sweet of you." Then she giggled. "Make sure you knock before you come in though. Unless you want to catch us undressed?"

Duncan cleared his throat uncomfortably, and Aura giggled again.

The common room was empty, but the kitchen was open, and he got them all sausage stuffed rolls for breakfast and some wrapped in paper for lunch. He made sure to knock and Hazel opened the door. Once they were dressed, fed, and packed, they hit the road again.

~*~

"How about a walking song?" Hazel said.

"Oh, for goodness sake," Shade muttered.

Duncan resisted the urge to smack her bottom.

"It'd help pass the time," Hazel said, ignoring Shade.

"I don't know any walking songs," Aura said.

"I can't sing," Katie said.

Hazel, undaunted spun around as she walked, so as to take in them all. The leaf-green of her skirts flared well above her knee, her pale, smooth thighs making Duncan stumble. None of the girls seemed to notice.

"That's fine. I'll sing; you walk."

Upon the hearth is fire red,

Beneath the roof there is a bed;

But not yet weary are our feet,

Still 'round the corner we may meet

A sudden tree or standing stone

That none have seen but we alone.

Hazel's voice was high and clear. And when she finished the first, she started another, and this one, Duncan remember some of the lyrics to. It was a song his father sometimes sang to pass the time in the workshop. Duncan found himself humming along, though he didn't want to interrupt Hazel's beautiful singing voice. When she began the third, Duncan immediately recognized it as one of his favorites.

Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter  
Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here  
Here comes the sun,

Here comes the sun

And I say it's all right

Duncan wasn't the only one who joined in.

Just before midday they were met by a Highway Patrol passing the same direction they were: three mounted men in proper uniforms. The highest ranking among them was also the youngest. He stopped, checking his clipboard.

"You're Lord Duncan Kintaro, party of five?"

Duncan nodded, trying not to squirm at the title.

The young officer saluted, fist to chest. "Pleasure, Sir. I hope you'll forgive my rudeness, but I'm in a bit of a hurry." And the trio hurried off, their horses clattering on the crimson paving stones.

They stopped for lunch soon after, sitting in a circle in a small clearing beside the highway. Hazel passed out the sausage rolls, humming happily all the while. They walked on until the day began to dim and found a hostel to stay at. After three days of walking, they were halfway to the City of Banking which was halfway to the City of Justice.

"Well," Duncan said under his breath, "So far, so good."

...

The girls claimed a table in the crowded common room while Duncan sorted out their sleeping arrangements. Because the hostel was full and he wasn't paying, the only room available was small with a single bunk.

"That'll be fine," Duncan assured him.

Before Duncan could thread his way through the crowd in the common room, someone grabbed his elbow and pulled him to the side. Startled, he jerked back, but it was just Shade.

"I need to talk to you," she said.

Duncan bit his tongue and nodded. He'd been expecting this. It was one thing to spank Aura; she'd asked him to do it. But Shade hadn't asked for any such thing. He'd smacked her without permission.

"We're being followed," Shade said.

Duncan blinked, thrown by the shift from what he'd been expecting.

"What?"

"A bald man. He was in the same hostel as us the first night, and now again tonight."

Duncan moved to scan the common room, but Shade kept a firm grip on his elbow. "Don't look. I think he's noticed me noticing him."

"Are you sure he's not just traveling the same way as us?"

"He's been staring at us. That's how I noticed him. Maybe he's just a creep, but maybe he works for the..." she hesitated. "You know."

Duncan nodded. Thus far they'd been lucky, avoiding any hint of pursuit from the Mancer's Guild and Aiphledaliph.

"Either way," he said, "let's eat and get to our room. No sense hanging around."

Duncan related Shade's concern in a low voice that was hidden by the hubbub of the crowd, they eat their dinners quickly, and stood to leave. They were halfway across the common room when Duncan's elbow was grabbed again.

"Lord Kintaro." It was the young Highway Patrol officer who'd passed them that morning. He stood and extended a hand, smiling. "A pleasure to meet you, sir. I thought I recognized your name this morning, but I didn't put it together until later. I served with your mother."

"Ah." Duncan looked at the fresh-faced young man, to his girls who were nearly to the entrance of the common room and back. "Um, that was my aunt, actually."

Duncan took the young officer's hand and received an overly firm handshake.

"Right, of course." The officer beamed at him. "I'm Corporal Way."

"Pleasure to meet you, Corporal." He glanced at the girls again who had gathered just outside the common room and were looking at him. "Look, I don't mean to be rude, but the girls and I, we're on a bit of a pilgramige, and..."

Corporal Way looked over his shoulder and when he looked back at Duncan, his eyebrows were to his hairline. "A pilgramige?"

Duncan shrugged, struggling not to blush. "Of sorts."

"Well, far be it from me to stand in the way." He shook Duncan's hand again. "A pleasure to meet you, sir."

"And you."

"What was that about?" Katie said as he joined them at the edge of the common room.

"He served with my aunt. Let's get upstairs."

The room was small and cramped with only a single bunkbed. None of them liked the idea of any of them out in the hallway without the others when there was the potential of someone following them, so Duncan sat on the bottom bunk, folded his hands in his lap, and closed his eyes while the girls changed. But as the sounds of cloth on skin began to fill the room and stir his breath, the darkness behind his eyes began to fill with the glow of the lights from his dreams.

Katie and Hazel were blurry shapes of orange and green respectively, suggesting the form of a woman, as they disrobed. Shade was more distinct, her purple glow sharper but without detail. Aura, however, was a woman made of light, every detail clear and sharp in his mind's eye. He watched her disrobe before pulling on clean panties and her thin, short nightgown, all while smiling faintly.

When they were done, they clambered onto the bunk bed and closed their eyes while Duncan changed into clean shorts and his nightgown. Duncan wondered if Aura could see him as he could see her. He made sure his stiffness relaxed a bit before he told them he was done.

Aura and Shade shared the bottom bunk; Katie and Hazel the top. Duncan took his place on the floor again, trying not to worry over whether or not Shade was right, whether or not the bald man was following him; whether or not the man in the top hat was searching for them, whether or not...

He drifted on the edge of sleep, swirling light of white and green, orange and purple, dancing in his mind. He could hear their breathing, feel them shift; he could hear the hubbub of the common room a floor below, feel it slow and settle. He took a breath as the hostel locked up for the night and finally felt his tension ease.

Then a floorboard creaked outside their room.

Duncan came awake and to his feet all at once. For several moments, he stood still and silent, listening for a sound over the drumming of his heart. For several stretched moments, he held his breath, waiting for something to happen. When nothing did, he felt his chest loosen and his breath return.

The door slammed open.

The bald man was tall and broad. He was dressed in stained leathers and carried a thick knife in one hand. Warmth filled him, a tingle danced along his skin, and Duncan reacted. He thrust his fist at the man's face, catching him off guard and throwing them both into the hallway in a tangle of limbs. His head was struck, the pommel of the dagger he reasoned before his faculties failed him.

He blinked hard and was looking at the star-spangled void against which stood the girls. A menace lunged at Aura, and shrieking pain blossomed in his shoulder. He tensed around it as it turned warm with blood. The menace raised his knife again, but a blast of heat drove him back. He cried out. A shadow slipped behind him, snatching at him, confusing him. Another blast of heat pushed him hard against the wall. The shadow snatched again and in the next moment thrust his own dagger through his throat.

"He's bleeding," Aura said. She pressed hard on the wound in his shoulder. "That was meant for me. He tried to stab me."

"I need to see the wound," Hazel said.

"What are you going to do?"

"Stitch it shut. I'm good a sewing."

"He's not a quilt, Hazel."

"Are you a healer?"

A ways away, Katie growled at Shade. "You didn't have to kill him."

"I'm pretty sure I did. He was going to gut you, fire hair."

"I can handle myself."

"If by 'handle yourself' you mean expose us to anyone paying attention..."

The pressure eased off his shoulder. Hazel pulled his nightgown up over his head, leaving him in nothing but his grey shorts.

"All of you stop it!" Hazel shouted.

Katie and Shade looked at her, stunned. Aura hovered nervously.

"I need you to hold him down so I can stitch him. It's not terribly deep, but he's bleeding badly."

Hazel knelt so that she held his left arm, the arm with the newly wounded shoulder, down with one leg. Shade took his other arm and Katie took his shoulders. Aura knelt at his head, making her thighs into a pillow and rested his head upon it, smoothing back his hair.

"He's clammy," Aura said.

"Just hold him," Hazel said.

Duncan tensed when the needle pierced him. He could feel the thread pulling through his skin, tugging at either edge of his wound like thick, supple leather. Reflexivly, he tried to shy away from the pain, but the girls held him. He strained but was weakened by bloodloss. The kept him in place while Hazel did her work.

"What the blazes?"

The new voice did not belong to one of his girls of light. It did not stand upon the void. Even so, he recognized the voice as that of Corporal Way.

"We were attacked," Katie said at the same time Shade said, "This bastard ambushed us." And she kicked the dead man.

"In a Highway hostel?" Corporal Way demanded.

"Well it wasn't in the woods," Shade said.

"A thief, most likely," Katie said, glaring at Shade. "A lowly sneak. A weak, shadow of a man who could amount to nothing else." She kept her gaze steady on Shade.

"There," Hazel said. "That part's done. Hand me his gown."

Aura did as she was told. Hazel ripped the gown into neat strips, folded one into a bandage and used the others to hold to wrap about his chest and shoulder, holding it in place.

Duncan opened his eyes on a hallway of commotion. Corporal Way was deep in conversation with an older man in a nightgown under a red jacket that showed he was in charge of the hostel. The hallway was filled with Highway patrolmen who were trying to clear it of the gawkers and guests who'd come to see what the commotion was all about. Shouts and conversation filled the hall.

Aura knelt next to him. The body of the man who'd attacked them slumped on the other side, his chest soaked with his own blood, his knife in his throat, his arms and face singed.

"Where are the others?"

"Duncan! Oh, are you hurt?"

He nodded. "I was stabbed."

"No. I was stabbed, but you took the wound. It's a power of a Warder. I'm so sorry. I had no idea..."

Duncan pushed himself up a little straighter with his good arm.

"Where are the others?"

Aura pointed across the hallway at their room where Shade and Katie were shouting at each other, their anger lost in the hubbub of the crowd. Hazel stood between them, shrinking away from their ire even as they lobbed it over her.

"Help me up," Duncan said.

Aura put his good arm over her shoulders and helped him to his feet. Together, they walked into the room where the shouting match was taking place. Hazel eased out from between the two.

"I saved our lives!"

"You went too far!"

"You used your power!"

"You killed a man!"

Duncan intervened bodily, putting a hand on either's shoulder and pushing them apart. Katie was on his left, his newly injured side, and she pushed against him. His wound protested and pulled against its bonds, but the stitches held. Duncan gasped in pain.

Katie's eyes went wide and she backed up a step.

"Duncan. Are you hurt?"

"Of course he's hurt," Aura said. "And you two are shouting at each other like children. You should be ashamed of yourselves. He ought to spank the both of you."

Their silence made the commotion in the hall seem that much louder. He heard Corporal Way's voice over the others. He seemed to be taking charge. That gave Duncan hope.

"Corporal Way might be willing to help us," Duncan said quietly so those in the hall couldn't hear. "He served with my aunt. Stay here. I'm going to go talk to him."

"You were already attacked," Katie objected. "I should go with you."

Duncan shook his head. "Aura was attacked. He was after her. Stay with her."

Katie looked about to object, but Duncan didn't wait for her. He strode into the hall in nothing but his shorts and bloody bandages to find Corporal Way directing men to examine the dead attacker, to cordon off the hallway, to search the dead man's room, and so on. When he noticed Duncan, his eyes widened.

"Lord Kintaro. You're up awfully fast. Your girl with the needle did her work well then."

Duncan nodded. "Corporal. I'd like a word." He kept his tone as level as he could manage.

Corporal Way nodded. "Of course," he said stiffly

The stepped away from the investigation of the dead man and Duncan pitched his voice low.

"As I'm sure you've gathered, the girls and I are pursued."

Corporal Way nodded. "This man had a chit on him that puts him with a bounty hunter squad known to roam the area." He sneered. "They're scum, using the law as an excuse to rough people up."

"We seek asylum in Regnessa. The Sisters of Justice will surely find us innocent."

Corporal Way gave him a long, hard look. "You know, Lord Kintaro, that a guilty man who seeks aide from the Sisters of Justice, thinking them soft, meets a hard fate."

Duncan set his jaw. "You think this man was right to attack me?"

"No. It was an unwarranted attack. And though I can't help but wonder why he attacked you rather than attempt to capture you, it's not my business. But I feel duty-bound to warn you that the Sisters of Justice are just that and no more."

"I understand."

The corporal's expression softened. "You seem a good sort, Lord Kintaro. As a Corporal of the Highway Patrol, I would be honored to escort you and your girls as far as [name]. I'm afraid it's the best I can do."

Duncan nodded. "Thank you, Corporal. I would be honored for your assistance."

 

Works Cited:

Harrison, George. "Here Comes the Sun". Abbey Road. 1969. 

Tolkien, J. R. R. "A Walking Song." The Lord of the Rings.


End file.
